


Shareware

by Insecuriosity



Series: Kinkmeme fills [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Desk Sex, Kinkmeme, M/M, Other, Out of Body Experiences, Possession, Roughness, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Upon scanning Prowls mind for important info Soundwave becomes caught up in and thoroughly aroused by Prowls lustful feelings for his bondmate Jazz. So much so that Soundwave attempts to control Prowls mind during interfacing in order to manipulate him to get to Jazz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shareware

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Upon scanning Prowls mind for important info Soundwave becomes caught up in and thoroughly aroused by Prowls lustful feelings for his bondmate Jazz. So much so that Soundwave attempts to control Prowls mind during interfacing in order to manipulate him to get to Jazz.  
> Bonus  
> Jazz must have no clue Soundwave is controlling Prowl.  
> If while Soundwave is controlling Prowl the sex is a bit rougher and Jazz really enjoys it.
> 
> Link to the prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/491.html?thread=2904299#t2904299

Telepathic intrusions, contrary to popular belief, always had a certain effect on the attacking telepath.  
Usually the damage was kept to a simple transfer of emotional baggage, or a flash of unimportant memories. They would come back with Soundwave when he retreated, sticking in his processor and making his hands clench in meaningless anger or giving him a processor ache with worries of another mech. They usually dissipated after a few moments of rest or a moment of meditation.

Soundwave had expected to find stress or frustration when he scanned the mind of Prowl. He had expected to return to his body with tense shoulderplating and overworked struts. What he found instead was lust. 

Soundwave had experienced lust in a telepathic connection before. Raw burning lines, aching interface equipment, a hazy processor... It was a basic, bestial and primitive feeling, and one easily dismissed by Soundwave. The sensations of the frame were very easy to ignore when compared to mental turmoil.

Prowl's arousal was different. Prowl's arousal came from his mind, and it was easy to tell that his body did not care much for the primal act of interfacing. Soundwave was very much the same; his body was inferior to his mind and he did not let himself be led by such basic urges.  
Yet, when Soundwave connected to Prowl's processor, he found a new meaning of arousal. Arousal through emotion, memory and personality. Arousal not through body, but through.... through-

A devious laugh, an invisible mask unpenetrable by even the most sound of logic, a hard and sharp body so lithe it might as well have been fluid. Tender fingers ghosting over sensitive lines with the grace of a dancer, a grip on shoulderplates strong enough to dent, lips warm and supple, hiding denta that could tear whatever they bit into. A mind flowing and rising like a deep ocean, but sharp and quick like a molten silver. Flashing optics hidden behind a glinting visor, all the secrets in the world swirling in the deepest pit of lies and truths-...

Soundwave retreated from Prowl's mind with a burn in his body that hadn't been present for vorns, his interface array burning hot and his plating shivering. There was nobody in his room, and there wouldn't be for quite some time- his cassettes were carefully guarding his room and his schedule was emptied out for the coming few joors. Soundwave spread his legs and tried to cool his equipment by sheer force of will. The ghostly touches of that lithe dangerous mech were still running over his spinal strut and pinching at his wires. That laugh was still ringing in his audials, those hidden optics glowing in amusement, just for him-...

It would pass. 

It was residue, a simple urge that had made it past his mental barriers- nothing that was even remotely connected to himself. Soundwave set himself to meditation. Slowly and meticulously he picked through his processor-outputs, and rearranged them in his memorybanks with utmost care and precision. The quick flash of a smirk, and the flick of a glossa over those smiling lips- 

Soundwave tried to shake his head clear. The urge to interface had not lessened yet, but Soundwave knew it would only take a few more breems for the effects to ebb away. He did not desire Jazz.  
It would be shameful to act on someone else's primal desires- he had more control than that. It would not do to self-service to the image of an enemy, spurred on by the lust of someone else's mind. Soundwave forced himself into stillness, his fans working at optimal efficiency, and waited for the emotional baggage from Prowl's mind to dissipate. 

Five breems passed, turning to ten breems, fifteen breems-... Jazz, slowly moving against him, attempting to lure him from his terminal, coaxing him away from his endless work for the rest and pleasure he so deserved....  
Soundwave's hand was burning on his thigh, and he almost felt the memory of a finger trailing up his neck. 

_You always work too hard Prowler...._

His intakes hitched, and Soundwave jolted upright in his chair.  
Many breems had passed, he should be free from baggage-emotions!

_Let me show you a little trick I learned-!_

A stolen memory of Jazz's glossa licked over his lips. Soundwave let his head drop back, and he balled his hands into fists. The burn in his lines was undeniable. The arousal was his own. Soundwave desired Jazz. 

The silent spy sat still in his chair, and he held his hand unsurely over his pelvic plating. It was still so hot, but self-servicing would not alleviate the need. Soundwave wanted Jazz. He had felt Jazz, he had experienced Jazz, had felt the lips, heard that laugh- touched the very back of that dripping valve with his spike... Soundwave wanted Jazz. He did not want memories of Jazz. Prowl's memories, Prowl's emotions, Prowl's experiences- they were lacking. Soundwave clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration, and he finally slipped open his covers.

His own hand was no substitute for Jazz's servos. Those teasing, merciless touches could not be executed by anyone but Jazz himself- perfect and threatening, feathery light with dark intent, so sweet it burnt like acid. Soundwave stilled, and closed his eyes- once again attempting the connection to Prowl's mind. Perhaps he was still susceptible to mindcontrol, perhaps he still had enough energy to take control, perhaps-....

Soundwave's mind connected, and he dove into the Autobot's processor in a similar manner as to which Starscream dove onto Megatron's empty throne. He forced deeper, slipping past impossibly high firewalls, penetrating Prowl's mind as far as he could until he was there.  
He felt a chair pressing into a body that wasn't quite his own, and Prowl's optics moved back and forth- reading an unimportant datapad. Soundwave's interest was not on the datapad, but on the other mech standing right before Prowl's desk.

"...-lways workin'. You should relax some.... I brought your favourite pasttime~! Me!"  
Soundwave felt his mouth opening, and he heard Prowl's answer inside of the mechs mind before he was going to speak them. Prowl was going to deny interface?! Soundwave attacked mercilessly. Motor control and conscious processor control yielded to him, and now he was the one working Prowl's jaw. 

"Jazz." Soundwave found he had nothing else to add, and he closed Prowl's mouth, his lust already priming Prowl's equipment for use. Jazz cocked his head, and his visor glinted in amusement.  
"Yea, that'd be me." Soundwave watched enthralled as Jazz swaggered over to the table and set down his aft on the desk, swinging his pedes over to rest on Prowl-Soundwave's legs. "Hm... been a while since I've seen you so appreciative Prowler... Something on your processor?" 

Soundwave rooted through Prowl's mind, looking for an answer that was in-character, and would simultaneously get Jazz to jump on his spike.   
"I have vorns of work still to be done Jazz, and as usual, you have been distracting me."   
Jazz grinned, and he slipped off the table to sit in Prowl's lap, his pelvic plating pressed firmly against Soundwave-Prowl's heated equipment.   
"Mm, I must'a been extra distracting tonight then- usually it takes me 'bout five datapads for you to even look at me when I'm distracting you."  


Soundwave-Prowl pressed Jazz to his chest, and brought his hands to the mech's aft, cupping one of his hands over his valve cover. It took him almost too long to find an appropriate response in Prowl's processor.  
"It has been approximatively ten vorns and fifteen decacycles since you have distracted me to such an extent. My work will suffer." Soundwave pressed his lips against Jazz's and flicked out his glossa.  
  
"Mmnhh~...well, you know the quickest way of getting rid of a... distraction." Soundwave had plenty of time to seek an appropriate answer as Jazz's glossa explored the inside of his mouth, and he ran his hands over the Jazz's perfectly curved back. As Jazz pulled back, visor dim with arousal, Soundwave decided that a verbal response was highly unnecessary.  


Soundwave wanted Jazz, and he would have Jazz. 

He gripped Jazz's shoulder, and almost threw the mech back onto the desk. The bot's visor flared with surprise, and Soundwave could catch a hint of pleasant arousal wafting from the mech as he forced Jazz flat against the table.  


"Ah-...You're assertive today-" Soundwave crawled half on top of the desk, and pressed a knee firmly against Jazz's valve cover, almost enough to hurt. Jazz's mind was as unguarded as it would ever get, and Soundwave almost felt his mindcontrol over Prowl slip as Jazz's heavy arousal washed over him.

_Query: Prowl, not enough for Jazz?_

Jazz moaned and struggled feebly, writhing every part of his body against Soundwave's with a flexibility that had Soundwave's covers opening within a klik. Jazz grinned and ground against the spike sticking out in between them. "One point for me-!"  


Soundwave grabbed Jazz's leg, and turned the lithe mech onto his side, hoisting the pede up as high as it would go and grinding roughly against Jazz's still closed panel. He could hear metal scraping obscenely, and Jazz's pede kicked in his grasp. Jazz's fingers were hooked deeply into Prowl's armour seams, and Soundwave was trembling with every little sting of pain and pleasure that zipped through his-Prowl's- lines.

_Command: open cover._

Soundwave pressed his spike harder against Jazz's valve cover, and continued to push until pleasure threatened to cross into pain. Jazz was writhing underneath him, shoving a heap office supplies to the floor. Soundwave slammed him down and ground his spike harshly against the closed valve cover, impatient and wanting-!  
The panel moved and Soundwave forced his spike in before it was fully retracted, eliciting a scream-turned moan from the Autobot beneath him. 

Warmth, a tight tunnel of calipers nearly locking him in place, and that hot frame trying to press itself against him- bliss. Soundwave pulled back and thrusted back in almost immediately. His spike met the back of Jazz's valve with a dull clang and a jolt of pure ecstasy ran up his spike. Jazz's wordless scream only making him wish he'd gone harder. Tight rings and ridges inside of the wet valve were mercilessly forced wide open with Soundwave's thrusts, and Jazz was moaning his perfect encouragements, one hand hooked into Soundwave's side and the other dragging long scratches in the surface of the desk. "Yes-yes! Prowl, harder- harder faster, hurry- Uuhhnnggharderr right there-!

Soundwave obliged. Again and again and again- thrusting as hard as he could, forcing their frames to the edge of what they could take. He felt metal denting at the back of Jazz's valve, the tip of his spike almost painfully sore, wet and soft materials nearly chafing against his spike, Jazz bending on the table with his mouth wide open in a soundless cry-

Soundwave moaned with Prowl's voice, thrusting through the shattering overload that was threatening to break his mind control. Jazz had gone slack on the desk, valve calipers clenching erratically at Soundwave's slowing thrusts. 

Soundwave stopped with his spike still fully sheathed inside of Jazz, and he placed a sloppy kiss against Jazz's jaw. Jazz looked as if he'd dropped right into recharge, but a soft flicker in his visor told Soundwave he was very much online. A slender hand, still so sure and steady, caressed Soundwave's cheek, and Jazz lifted his head from the desk.

"....Ooooh....oh yea Prowler.... I wan-want this more oft'n. Tha...was 'mazing- Mn...." Jazz squirmed out from beneath him, and Soundwave shuddered as his spike slipped out, followed by a stream of transfluid and energon-tinted lubricants. "Uh-huhg... This... this's gonna hurt in th' morning- you really held nothin' back." 

Soundwave was distracted- pulling up decoy memory files and removing traces of his presence in Prowl's processor. He slowly drew back, leaving a small suggestion that maybe Prowl's energon cube had tasted a little off that day... Prowl was slipping back in control, with only a few vague memories of what had occurred the moment before.  
"Jazz, I...- What is-...?" 

Soundwave slipped back into his own body, and found himself on the ground. He had drawn long scratches over the floor, and the tips of his fingers ached. There was a very telling set of smears on the ground, and his legs were unresponsive by the force of his overload. He could still feel Jazz's valve around his spike, could still feel the mech's sensitive plating dent under his harsh thrusts-

Jazz's words repeated relentlessly in his processor as he struggled to lift himself from the floor. 

_"....Please-.... want this more often..."_

Soundwave shivered, and he leant against the computer terminal. He was sure to give Jazz more, whenever he got an opportunity. For now, he had to compile the data he'd found. Soundwave set himself back into his chair and logged in on his personal computer. His systems were relaxed, and the lack of charge in his lines was a welcome change from the usual stress. The blue from Jazz's visor flashed before his optics.

Perhaps, lingering emotional residue was more risky than Soundwave had suspected.


End file.
